Onto Something
by Novelist Pup
Summary: AU: In another universe, TED accidentally breaks into a home, and Felix accidentally mistakes him for a man with a television on his head. Temporal paradoxes and human emotion occur. TED/Felix   :fic for the webcomic Curious Travels:


**Onto Something (That's What She Said)**

Is it even possible to make an AU of Curious Travels? Is it plausible for there to be slash between Felix and TED? Can I write this without feeling extremely self-conscious?

Whatever the answer is, I am going to damn well try :o

Also FAKE SCIENCE FUCK YEAH I DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ROBOTS OR TIME-TRAVEL WOOOOO MAKIN' SHIT UP

**Disclaimed.**

* * *

><p><em>I am beginning<em>, TED surmised with an image of displeasure flickering on his interface, _to believe my creators were not nearly as intelligent as I assumed_.

Or perhaps they did not think of the fact that in the past, androids such as him were not nearly as plentiful as they would be in the future.

He quite specifically remembered the Head Engineer, in all his presumptuous glory, telling him to "be subtle" and to "keep to an extremely low key state" in his mission.

The request filtered through his CPU and, while a part of his programming pointed out how completely illogical the request was, he accepted the mission with the current parameters of "subtlety" and "staying low key."

TED wished he had eyes for the sheer sake of rolling them—it was rather difficult to stay low-key when his CPU was contained within a cubical monitor with antennae. Or, at least, he believed it to be antennae. He had so many parts with so many functions that at times he had to question if he was meant to save the time-space continuum or be a multitasking toaster.

(While he did have the capacity to create the apparently tasty substance, he refused to demean his entire existence with something so menial and ridiculous.)

"I saw it!" came a shout from the other side of the alley TED appropriated himself in. "It was'a, a walkin' telly—with'a suit and everythin'!"

_Why is this human speaking so oddly?_ TED questioned internally, his screen blinking in query. It was the year 1994 in Greater London—he'd just left the year 1902 in Manchester, and the few humans he'd contact with spoke clearly without the slurred intones and stammering speech.

"You're nuts," the human's apparent associate reprimanded, and TED stayed stiff in his shadowed depression against the building. "Come off, mate—clear you've a bit much tonight."

"I ain't nuts!" the original speaker snapped, and the android's fists clenched at the advancing sound of stumbling. "It's was a walkin' telly—taller than me or you, Ben! Its telly head was silver, and it was wearin' a suit!"

_A correct deduction_, TED observed. _Perhaps he is not as unintelligent as his associate believes._ Of course, this didn't change the fact that TED still believed the man to be a complete moron—but, well. He's a human. Humans weren't programmed to be intelligent.

The associate snorted with more disdain than TED thought was possible. "I bet it had an antennae and'a nice pair o' shoes too," he replied grumpily. "You twit, let's get outta this alley—this is the first stop to gettin' filched."

"But, the telly man—"

"You fuckin' moron, it don't exist." There was the sound of a scuffle, probably brought on by the associate. The original human whined and fought valiantly for a drunkard, but in the end the duo continued on to stumbling further down the narrow sidewalk.

TED, with one more sweep of his surroundings by way of his antennae, stepped out of the shadows and fixed his tie.

_That was an ordeal_, he admitted internally. He needed to either find a way to blend in better with his environment, or become a master at being low-key.

"Ach—" a gasp sounded behind him, and TED pivoted around with an alerted screen. How did someone get past his sensor?

There was a man gawking at him, disbelief etched into the lines of his face. He was dressed in a manner most unlike the majority of humans TED had come across within the decade—neutral, dirtied clothes hung loosely off his body, with fingerless gloves on bony hands and a scraggly brown beard adorning his grimy, drooping face. A hat smothered the top of his graying, knotted hair, and TED wondered why the man would be so unclean willingly.

He zeroed in on the man's face and pinpointed his information within nanoseconds.

_Name: Hall, Hubert,_ his identity read within TED's processors and rolled down his screen. _DOB: 3/19/1945. DOD: 7/29/1996. Status: NONE._

"Mr. Hall," TED spoke, his deep voice filtered through the speakers within his CPU. He paused, looking down at the terrified man with a contemplative interface. "You have seen nothing."

Hubert moved his lips in stuttering motions, his fingers curling against his ratty jacket. "I-I-err'ah—!" he attempted to reply.

TED did not care for his attempts. "Nothing," he repeated. He stepped a bit closer, and the man scurried back, mortified. "_Nothing_."

"N-nothin'!" Hubert finally agreed to his terms with a harried headshake.

TED was pleased. "Thank you for your cooperation," he intoned drolly. "And please have a nice day." With that, a familiar heat exploded beneath his shoes, and the android took off into the midnight sky, tearing into the atmosphere.

Perhaps he was better at this whole low-key thing than he originally believed.

* * *

><p>Or perhaps not, TED realized as several humans below shouted in varying degrees of shock and surprise.<p>

Surely there were fixed-wing aircrafts in this time period as well? A flying android in the dead of night should not have been so odd in 1994, especially if these specimens were unfazed by the frequent sight of aeroplanes.

Once again, humans prove themselves to be mentally inferior. It must be difficult to drop the standard of intelligence within every year of existence.

_Stealth Mode: Disabled,_ TED processed with a mechanical huff. Cutting off his jet thrusts, the android held out his arms and fell from the sky feet first. The wind whistled around his metal cranium, and the back of his suit jacket flapped against the force of the blustering air. _New parameters: locate vacant area devoid of humans._

His free-fall, though, did not give him much of a choice in location. There was a flat that was quickly entering his peripherals, and while TED did not desire to crash into some pathetic human's home, it was either make a quick landing there or risk creating another ordeal with his apparently surprising ability of flight.

_ executed,_ TED affirmed, and the heat of the thrusters culminated under his shoes once more. _Now landing at 20 Standard Road, Harlesden District, Brent._ His feet lightly touched the roof of the flat, and his jets were shut off. _OS Grid Reference: TQ215835. Coordinates: _ _Latitude 51.621, Longitude -0.268. _

TED readjusted his tie and fixed his jacket, turning around to observe his surroundings. The flat was situated in a rather quaint suburban neighborhood, surrounded on the sides by other small houses and across the street larger examples.

The lawns these places of residence were allotted were incredibly small. Or perhaps the ones of 1971's Santa Barbara were obscenely large. Regardless, it was unrelated to TED's mission, but he found it strange.

Upon further observations, TED discovered the flat was a one-story building with two windows on each outer wall—and one of those windows was open.

_Stealth Mode: Enabled,_ his interface flickered in pleasure. The android tapped silently to the western-most edge of the small house and stood at the edge of the roof. Jumping off the surface, he touched the ground with less grace than he had when he was careening from the sky, but that likely didn't matter.

The window was approximately 36 inches in width, with a height of 52 inches. The sash was opened to allow a space of 13 inches, but TED was not worried.

Pressing the heel of his palm onto the bottom edge of the sash, TED pushed it up to allow further entrance.

_Estimated Success: 76 percent,_ his processor alerted, and TED fixed his jacket once more. It would be a tight fit, obviously, but the robot expected his entrance to be generally successful with a distinct lack of damage. He would be quite displeased if something were to happen to his antennae, after all.

TED, with a look of determination displayed through his screen, lifted both his hands and gripped the inside of the sill tightly. He squared his shoulders and pressed his foot against the wall, and then leaned his cranium in the window at an angle to prevent any predicted damage. With a short burst of power, the robot shoved himself through the window.

_As expected,_ TED mused smugly, picking himself off the ground. _I succeed once more._ He ignored the logical lines of commands that were basically telling him he just broke into a human's home, as last time he listened to those he crashed into a hookah bar in 1977, Cancun.

He looked around, realizing quickly that at his full height the ceiling was mere inches from the top of his antennae. _Technically small residence,_ he observed. _Square feet of 1200. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. Kitchen and common room interconnected. Currently Occupied: N—_

"…who are you?"

_Peripherals Breached!_ TED's CPU alerted urgently, and he swiveled around with his screen blinking red. A man stood within the open doorway, a bag of what was likely groceries in one arm while his other hand held the doorknob tightly. _Stealth Mode Interrupted—Proceed to Extermination Mode._

The human furrowed his brow and looked over TED with a rather confused gaze, readjusting his bag. "I'm goin' to be honest," he spoke carefully, his voice an accented tenor that made TED put off the line of coding for a few more processes. "You're scarin' the shite out of me, mate. I just got off the grave shift, these groceries cost a good number at the late-night shop, and the transmission on me car is startin' to sputter." He smiled at TED, stepping into the house. "So, if you don't mind, I'd at least like to know your name before you murder me in cold blood."

TED, stiff in his pose, kept his scope on the man in front of him. _Name: Unknown,_ the information scrolled in its usual green type. _DOB: N/A. DOD: N/A. (No Matches Towards Identity. Subject is Unable to Be Exterminated Until Further Information.) Status: None._

No information? That was impossible.

The man in front of him was clearly a human—and TED was a state-of-the-art robot from the future with the information of every human to live before his time _ever_. He knew the blood type of a Chinese peasant from the year 438 BC—there was no way he could not know anything about the human milling about idly in this flat.

"Your name?" the man tried again, placing his groceries on the coffee table and throwing his jacket on a living chair.

TED considered the request. "I am the Temporal Emergency Defense Unit," he spoke robotically, the familiar words booming from his speakers. "However, you may refer to me as TED."

The man smiled wider, crossing his arms as he leaned his hips against the side of the living chair. "Ted, huh?" he replied in a teasing tone, his clear blue eyes sparkling. "Well, I'm Felix." He held out his hand, fingers splayed and trembling just slightly.

_The human is still frightened,_ TED observed, looking at the hand curiously.

Felix continued to hold out the hand.

TED did not understand what was expected of him. Was he to kill an animal to give it to the man? How odd.

"…" Felix retracted his hand, an eyebrow cocked in question. He ran the hand through his thick, wavy hair, worrying his bottom lip in a motion that belied his displeasure. "Okay then, Ted. I'd suppose you don't like shaking, ah?"

"'Shaking' is not a valid execution," TED replied. "For I was not programmed with a shake process."

"Then, how do you greet people?" Felix asked. "If you don't shake, that is."

"'Hello' or complete eradication usually suffices as a greeting," the android said. His screen flickered to an expression of annoyance. "Enough with menial humanoid greetings. Identify yourself further, human."

The human blinked, surprised. "A bit forceful for a man with'a telly on his head," he joked. "Especially since you broke int'a my flat and I haven't called the police."

"The police are relatively useless," TED replied, and he would've added a scoff in there if that were possible. "And this is not a 'television' as you fairly unintelligent humans insist on referring to it. My processor is capable of over millions of subsequent executions in 84-bit digital storage. Compiled with an active-matrix thin-film liquid crystal display, my transist—"

"How're you making the telly change, anyway?" Felix interrupted, causing TED to deflate in displeasure. "And what is it plugged to? I don't hear'a generator anywhere, and I saw you just come in the window so you couldn't've plugged it while I wasn't here."

TED stared at him. "You speak nonsense, human," he dismissed with crossed arms. "Regardless, you have yet to further identify yourself." His screen blinked in irritation, with a red line bleeding along the edges of the monitor.

Felix raised an eyebrow. "You're quite the odd fellow," he said, rubbing the back of his head. Leaning over, he picked up his bag of groceries and rested it against his hip while he turned back to the robot. "Let's continue this talk in the kitchen, Teddy." He walked past TED towards the kitchenette, flashing a smile at the tall android.

"…Hmph," TED huffed, following the dark-haired man. "My moniker is TED, as I've said—not 'Teddy' or whatever nonsense you called me."

"But of course, Teddy," Felix assured him. TED was not very assured, and his screen probably spoke volumes of his displeasure. The human ignored his blinking interface and placed the groceries on a fairly clean countertop. "Now, did you want some coffee while we talked? Perhaps a sandwich?"

_Sandwich?_ What was that? Some sort of archaic humanoid energy source? "I am a robot," TED replied tersely. "I cannot drink coffee."

"A robot. Right." Felix covered his mouth and snickered, looking back at TED like this was a vaguely amusing situation. "Then, I'd suppose you're not'ta thief, ah?" He looked over the robot, grinning as usual. "I'll say, you're quite well-dressed for a burglar at any rate. Better dressed than me on'na good day, even!"

TED looked down at his suit, bewilderment flashing over his screen. "This is not normal attire for humans in this time?" he demanded, pulling at the lapels of his jacket.

The human laughed, a hand threading through his hair. It was a short barking sound that seemed significantly more condescending than it probably was, which made TED flicker in frustration. The Head Engineer had the same sort of expression for his amusement, except on average he really was being condescending.

"No, Teddy," Felix assured him, turning back around. He stuck his hand into the bag and tugged out various foodstuffs and miscellaneous items. "Us…'humans' do dress like that, sometimes—it just looks very nice on you. The shirt rather complements your telly."

"You are making a thin-veiled insult towards my person," TED observed, crossing his arms. His metal fingers dug into the wrinkles of the fabric of his blazer. "Interesting, human."

The man shrugged. "I try," he replied with a jaunty smile. "Now, how would you like your sandwich? English? Or perhaps capital?"

"What is a sandwich?" TED asked curiously. He'd never really heard of such a thing—in the future, most foodstuffs were digitally processed or powdered.

Felix paused, turning his head just enough to catch the robot with the corner of his eye. "Surely you are joking," he said laughingly, pulling out what seemed to be a loaf of bread. "Now, once more Teddy—how would you like your sandwich?"

Apparently all humans knew about this sandwich contraption. Interesting. "What is the preferred type of this…sandwich apparatus?" he questioned, stepping closer to the man.

"Well," Felix replied without looking at him, attempting to multitask with his groceries, conversation, and 'sandwich' preparation. Silly human. "I personally love capital. In fact, it'll likely be easier if I just make two capitals. Anything you don't want on it, mate—whoa." He turned around only to bump his arm against the hard planes of TED's torso. "Uh."

TED looked down at the man, noticing that either Felix was terribly short or he was built to be terribly tall. It was likely both, as the human's blue eyes only came up to his pectoral area and but a single strand of hair made it into TED's initial peripheral.

Also, the human was attempting back into the counter, fear outlying his thin frame. Did TED's proximity bother him? "Does my proximity bother you, human?" he demanded, his interface flashing in curiosity.

Felix gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing jerkily. "W-well," he stammered, eyes darting to the sides. "I mean—other than your breaking into my home and possibly killing me, it isn't exactly normal for a bloke to, well, be this close to another. I mean, uh." His gaze flickered down to TED's pelvic area, and his face flushed into a low pink. "You've got your, err, tool awful close to my arse."

"I do not understand," TED replied, but took a step back anyway. "What is a tool in this instance?"

"…" Felix's face was a brighter red by this point, and he turned around with a hand over his mouth. "I'd suppose you'd want everything on your sandwich then? Right!" The human busied himself with the construction of this 'sandwich,' obviously ignoring TED's inquiry.

TED allowed him the moment, as something clearly bothered the human about the previous lack of space. According to his programming, humans were supposed to be generally acceptable to close interactions—especially two men. TED specifically remembered materializing in the year 1999 and observing a troupe of humans participating in one particularly idiotic sport that he did not bother to research. It was pertaining to two groups of men in obscenely tight clothing doing nothing short of molestation on a long field of grass.

Honestly, if that was normal, then the five inches of space between him and Felix should have been what was odd.

"Human," he started, honing in his scope once more. "You have yet to further identify yourself. I accepted your parameters of further conversation within the kitchen—we are now within the kitchen. I would like to partake in further conversation."

Felix had opened the bag of bread, and looked at him over his shoulder once. "Where're you from, anyway?" he asked, removing slices of bread and placing them on the countertop. "I'd say you were American, but there's just somethin' about the way you talk that's a bit more London. Perhaps you are South African?"

"My origins are irrelevant," TED replied tersely. "Your continuous avoidance of further identification is suspicious, human."

"Are you sure you wanna talk about 'suspicions'?" Felix countered. "Considerin' how you did break into me home and all."

"Please answer my request," the robot tried once more, his fingers alternating between clenching his sleeve and smoothing it out. "And I will not be forced to terminate you." Well, he _couldn't_ terminate the man, but in past cases he found that empty threats worked very well against humans.

Felix snorted. "Why are you so interested anyway?" he asked, moving towards his refrigeration machine. He opened it with trembling fingers, a fact that TED found most curious.

"You are not showing up on any database," TED replied honestly, cocking his neck to the side. "Of which I am programmed with millions of. Your person cannot be identified with any current collection of data within this time period."

"What?" the human turned around, a jar of mayonnaise within his hands. "What do mean, _database_?" He squinted his eyes, placing the jar on the counter. "Who _are_ you, Ted?"

TED's screen blinked in annoyance. "I am TED, or the Temporal Emergency Defense Unit," he explained, _again_. "I was deployed in order to repair the fabric of time as an effort to save the future."

Felix closed the refrigerator carefully, keeping his eyes on the android in his kitchen. "You're nuts, that's what you are," he retorted, a weak smile showing up on his thin lips. "You're sayin' you're a time-travelling robot?"

Well, TED himself couldn't have put it better. "Yes," he affirmed.

The human stepped closer to the sandwich preparation area, and TED kept his scope on the moving figure. "Ted, it's 1994," he said, gripping the counter. "Robots can't possibly exist. The closest thing we've so far is likely the, I don't know, LaserDisc player they're sellin' out in the market."

"Hence, the future," TED replied drolly. Was it wise to inform this human so easily of his identity? It likely didn't matter—there was something very odd about Felix, and TED was determined to find out. "May you inform me of your further identity?"

Felix sighed heavily. "You are really quite persistent," he complained, ripping a leaf off the thick lettuce he had on the side of the bread. "Especially since you won't even tell me of your own last name."

TED wanted eyebrows or temples, and he wanted them so he could rub the _life_ out of them right now. He did not _have _ a surname, he was a _robot_. "Let us say it is Unit," he ground out. "Now I have given you further identification of my person. It's only appropriate that you respond with the same."

"…well, my surname is Blake," Felix finally admitted. He glanced at the robot nervously, his fingers tapping against the countertop impatiently. "We are equal, right?"

_Search: BLAKE, FELIX,_ TED was much too busy entering the term into his database to answer. _Filter Results—Year: 1994. Location: European Continent. Age: N/A. Now Loading…Now Loading…Now Loading…_

"Teddy?" Felix looked up at him with the smallest amount of trepidation. Why he was afraid of large android with a monitor for a cranium and the capacity to terminate him where he stood, TED would never know. "You all right, mate?"

"You don't exist," TED said with the slightest edge of wonder in his speech. His scope returned to the short man, immediately outlining the features that would likely be handsome if he were a human. At least, that is the impression he got from humans over the times. "Please excuse me while I check other sources."

_Now Loading…Now Loading…Now Loading…_ his screen blinked as he searched trillions of files within his internal memory. _One result found. View?_ But of course! How could it even ask?

_Blake, Felix,_ the file scrolled down at a leisurely pace. _DOB: 9/21/1866. DOD: 4/2/1895. (Missing, Presumed to Be Dead Until Further Information.) Occupation: Scientist. Relations: N/A._

TED was still, his antennae blinking in thought. "When were you born?" he asked carefully. "Doctor Blake?"

Felix, to his credit, did look honestly perplexed. "Err, September twenty-first, back in sixty…err…four? I believe," he replied with considerable more ease than he did with giving his last name, but also a hefty amount of confusion. "Also, I'm not a doctor, mate—I work at'a bookstore."

"Then your existence is impossible," TED pointed out. "As the only record of a 'Felix Blake' has deceased nearly a century ago."

"What you are sayin' is impossible," Felix replied, an expression of displeasure twisting his face into a grimace. "Maybe there're just two Felixes in the world, and one of 'em is dead and your 'databases,'" he took the time to curl his fingers into the horribly sarcastic quotation motions. "simply did not think to update it to include me."

The robot took a step up, and then another step, and then pivoted on his heel to repeat the process. Before he knew it, he was pacing the linoleum floor of a man who didn't exist.

Which was rather unfortunate, TED surmised. Felix Blake, while a likely product of the local tear in the time-space continuum, was a generally okay example of a human. No one had ever offered to give him a 'sandwich' and coffee after breaking into their house before. (Well, it did not help that he never broke into someone's home in previous ordeals which did not allow him the opportunity to be offered food and drink. Even if he can partake in neither.)

"Um," TED paused at the small hum from the human, and he looked at the dark-haired man with a curious interface. "Here's your sandwich in any case." Felix held out a paper plate with a messy group of foodstuff stacked on top of it. "You didn't tell me what you didn't want, so I just made it the same as me own. Hope that's okay."

TED took the plate hesitantly, and immediately lifted the top slice of bread in order to identify every section of the 'sandwich.' "I have seen this before," he admitted, "though the form was different." He eyed a carrot suspiciously, "I do not believe the Spanish aristocracy of the year 1709 utilized carrots within these 'sandwich' forms."

Felix, for the first time since the tense conversation began, relaxed his shoulders and chuckled. "That's just me, I think," he replied, stepping over to a small dining table situated against the kitchen wall. He sat rather ungracefully in a wooden chair and laid his plate on the tabletop. "Carrots give it a bit more body, I'd say. Sit down, Teddy, as well."

The human waved towards the empty seat adjacent to his own, and TED turned to it curiously. The structure seemed terribly weak in comparison to the aluminum alloy seats of his time. He doubted it was efficiently holding Felix's weight, let alone his own weighty form.

(Then again, Felix did not seem to be the size of the average adult male. Was this another of TED's possible underestimations of human technology? Of course not.)

TED placed the plate on the table and, with his processor beeping urgently about the lack of success he may experience, sat carefully in the wooden chair.

It creaked, but stayed stable.

_Success_, TED's screen displayed smugly. Felix stared at him, clearly disturbed by one of TED's features. The robot, while not harboring any particular reason to care, tried to appease him anyway.

"Something is disturbing you, Mr. Blake," he spoke, taking apart the components of his sandwich for further research. There is also a tomato involved in this process—interesting. "Feel free to speak. I am not programmed with psychiatric executions, but I am well-prepared for emotional cleansing by way of complete eradication of your being."

"You're quite into this whole 'robot' thing," Felix replied, biting into his sandwich. A piece of lettuce stuck to his bottom lip, and TED had to prevent himself from removing it by laser disintegration. "Why don't you take the picture box off your head—show your face and eat your sandwich, yes?"

TED turned to the man with a displeased expression, and heaved a sigh because it felt appropriate. "Once again," he started slowly, deciding that perhaps the man was simply an idiot. "I am a robot. This is not a television—this is my proc—"

"Yes, yes, computer monitor," the human rolled his eyes. "Sorry Teddy."

_The human clearly does not believe me,_ TED mused with a sort of annoyance. He did not know why it irritated his system that this one idiotic human refused to believe TED to be a robot, his mainframe to be his actual headpiece, or that Felix Blake didn't exist.

TED stood up stiffly, the chair screeching across the tiled floor behind him.

He loosened his tie and began to unbutton his shirt, determined to convince Felix Blake once and for all that he is, indeed, a robot.

Felix, though, dropped his sandwich and gawked at him. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"Removing my articles of clothing," TED explained. "To further educate you on my model type."

"You can't be—ach!" The human's hand flew to his throat, and he hacked roughly, bent over the table. His face was rapidly turning blue, and he banged a fist against the table as he coughed weakly.

_Human is showing signs of asphyxiation,_ TED realized belatedly. _Execute Heimlich._

Placing his blazer on the back of his chair, the robot moved quickly to stand behind the choking man, and wrapped an arm around Felix's midsection. Standing up straight, he noted that Felix weighed not nearly as much as he assumed a human would weigh, and that the human's legs dangled inches from the ground within his grip.

This had the capability to be odd.

"Advanced Warning," TED said sternly. "This may be a slightly painful experience." And he constricted his arm in a short, tight burst of power, digging into the stomach of the unfortunate human.

Felix wheezed in pain, but TED was not worried. He did give an advanced warning after all. "Do not be alarmed," he continued. "I will only execute the Heimlich once more." And he squeezed Felix's stomach again.

Finally, the man spat out an unidentifiable object that was likely a sandwich portion. He slumped over weakly in TED's hold, breathing heavily.

TED looked down at the man in his arm. "Are you still experiencing symptoms of asphyxiation?" he asked suspiciously. "I am prepared to execute the Heimlich once more."

"No!" Felix yelped, wriggling wildly. His elbow slammed against TED's pectoral plate, and he sucked in a slow drag of air. "…_ow. Ow._ Oh _god_ do you wear metal armor under that suit?"

The robot did not dignify that with a response. Holding his arm out, he allowed the human to drop onto the ground in an ungainly sprawl. "Mr. Blake, if you are done," he started. "I would like to converse with you further concerning your lack of existence."

"Please hold on," the human replied weakly. He stood up unsteadily, using the table as leverage. "Okay, now that I'm done dying, we can have this talk. And by 'talk,'" he put a certain sarcastic emphasis on the word. "I mean, no. I think I would prefer it if you left the subject alone, as well as left my home."

"It is much too late to dismiss me from your household," TED pointed out. "I've already spent one hour, twelve minutes, and fourteen seconds within your presence with minor interruptions. To send me away would be—excuse me while I search for the term—_rude_."

Felix squinted at him as though he were scrutinizing everything coming from TED's speakers. "You are aware," he said slowly. "That you broke into my house, right?"

"That is irrelevant," TED replied. "You do not exist. In fact, you are an anomaly, of which I am urged to repair or, at the least, evaluate."

"Evaluate what?" Felix demanded, smacking his forehead in a show of exasperation. "Ted, you're a fuckin' nut. Honestly, I didn't call the police because you seemed more interesting than _insane,_ but I don't know why I thought that! You've a bloody television on your head, for one!"

"It is not a television—"

"I don't _care_," the human stressed, gesticulating tightly. "If it weren't for the fact that I'd never seen a thief or creep as well dressed as you, you'd be carted to the slammer the moment you climbed in. Why did you choose _my_ house of every one, anyway?"

TED, nonplussed by the human's whines, responded with ease. "I was seeking refuge in order to maintain a certain amount of subtly," he explained. "Apparently humans have never seen a flying robot."

"Of course they haven't—"

"But before you continue with your redundant rant of my apparently dishonest origins," TED interrupted the human with a raised hand. "I would like for you to answer one question. I can assure you, it will not disturb you to the point my other inquiries might have," _For some inane reason_. "so I would greatly appreciate it if you would answer to your best ability."

Felix, while still suspicious, felt around blindly for his chair. "Just one question?"

"Only one." TED also sat down in his crookedly placed seat, adjusting it appropriately. "Is there anything about your person that you find particularly strange?" he asked, his screen displaying a digital face of utmost concentration.

"My person?" the dark-haired man repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Err. Uhm." He bit his bottom lip, eyes darting to the open window to the side of the duo. "Define, uh, _strange_."

TED knew the man wasn't the most intelligent, but there must have been limits. "According to the Oxford English dictionary," he replied in a manner his human creators would have likely identified as 'sarcastic.' "Being definitely out of the ordinary and unexpected. Odd. Foreign."

"Okay, _smart_ _arse_," Felix rolled his eyes. "Something strange. Um. I think—is there a particular 'phenomenon' you are searching for or whatever?"

"No." The robot inclined his head to the side, attempting to urge the man to talk. "Please answer, Mr. Blake."

Several minutes passed before Felix finally opened his mouth again, so TED refrained from destroying the man where he sat.

"I'm prone," the human finally admitted. "To forgetting odd things."

TED's screen flashed in interest. "Continue," he said, crossing his arms.

"I mean," the human held himself by the forearms, worrying his bottom lip with obvious discomfort. "Is it odd to forget the year you were born?" he asked, looking up at the robot with wide eyes. "Because I do. Frequently. Filling out applications is an ordeal."

"To my knowledge," TED replied, letting the silent _'of which I have much more of than you_' hang in the air unspoken. "Yes. It is not considered within the parameters of 'normal' human behavior to forget their year of birth. Does your memory falter on any other subject?"

"I've forgotten my car keys," Felix said, embarrassed. "Even once I've put them in the car, I forget they are there." He looked back down at his shoes, gripping his arms closer. "I don't remember my parents, as well." This was obviously a distressing fact for him.

The robot nodded, leaning back in his seat. "If I could feel human sentiment," he began. "I would likely feel unfortunate for you and your faltering existence. As it is," he waved a hand in dismissal. "I am not human and thereby cannot express any form of regret for your situation."

Felix stared at him. "…you're an arsehole," he said with a sort of awe. "How do you get girls when you're such a twat?"

"I have no need for attempted seduction," TED replied easily. "Complete annihilation usually suffices. Now, Felix Blake, I am going to theorize your current issue. If you cannot keep up, of which I will assume will be constantly, please inform me."

"If I were a woman, I would not find you attractive," Felix said. "You've a horrid way with words."

TED glanced at him. "It is fortunate that you do not possess female genitalia," he responded. He paused. "Unless—"

Felix interrupted him before he could even begin. "I don't have a vagina!" he exclaimed, scratching his head. "Lord. Go on with your theory shite."

"Well then." TED squared his shoulders. "What do you know about time travel?"

"The part where it doesn't exist," Felix replied.

"You are incredibly unintelligent. I hope you are aware of this." The robot shook his head. "The most elementary definition is that time travel itself is the physical concept of moving between different points in time. Any further explanation will be beyond your comprehension. Do you understand, though, what I have explained so far?"

Felix rubbed his elbow, apparently attempting to alleviate the remaining pain. "You gave me a preview," he said. "Of the science-fiction novel you are writing. Listen, Ted, I'm sorry, but there is no bloody way—"

"I suppose you'd like for me to convince you of my theory," TED replied, his screen blinking in amusement. "Fortunately, it is not mandatory that you believe me. I am a state-of-the-art robot from the future—it is perfectly plausible to myself."

"You aren't even a real person!" Oh, so he was accepting the fact TED was a robot to refute the android's statement of being a robot? Interesting. Perhaps Felix believed on a subconscious level that he was, in fact, a robot.

Not that it made a great difference at this point.

"Correction: you are not a real person." TED lifted his shoulders in a motion that belied his lack of care. A shrug, if you will. "You are a contradiction within a timeline. A casualty of a temporal paradox. Somewhere in the past, a human attempted the impossible with the aspects of time travel, and you as well as the tears are the unfortunate result."

The human gaped, eyes wide. "Tears? Paradox?" he repeated. "Where are you getting these things from anyhow?"

TED looked at him, hoping his disdain was obvious on his monitor. "Basic information," he answered. "Of which you would know if you would refrain from further interruption." He huffed. "Continuing. A wormhole is a tear, for lack of simpler phrasing, in the fabric of the time-space continuum. By the creation of a tear, the physical aspect of space-time is ruptured and thrown into disarray. I am currently on a mission to find and repair the tears as indicated by year. I transport through the continuum by way, though, of the Temporal Transportation Device, which sends the user into a random location within the designated year."

"But," Felix started, frowning. "What does that have to do with me?"

Well. At least he seemed to finally believe TED about the time-travel.

"You are likely a product of the local tear in time-space," TED explained, intertwining his fingers and resting his hands on a bent knee. "A deviation from the world around you, if you will. You never remembered the year of your birth because you were never born. The fact that you do have a set identity with personality traits is also odd, but it can be hypothesized that there may be another physical instance of your person in another time, with like traits and complete memory."

Felix gripped the arms of his chair, pointedly looking away from the robot. "I, I don't understand," he said. "That would mean…well. I don't actually know what it would mean, but surely it can't be good."

"Do not worry," the robot assured. "It is not terrible. It simply means that once I procure the appropriate means of repairing the tear, you will simply cease to be."

"…how is that not worrying?" Felix asked, eyes widening in panic. "You've told me I don't exist and that when you're done with all your, I don't know, robot things—I'm going to die."

"It will be relatively painless," TED corrected, hoping his fabricated sympathy will soothe the human. "As you won't die—you never lived in the first place. When I repair the wormhole, this year will return to the state it was before the formation of the tear—a state in which you were not present."

The human, though apparently a 29 year old man, breathed shakily. He seemed overwhelmed by his apparent fate.

TED did regret not being programmed with human emotion for times like these.

"I never lived to be thirty," Felix whispered, running his hand over his face.

"Correction: you never lived," TED said. In hindsight, though, that was not an appropriate response.

Felix did, however, laugh, looking up at the robot with eyes that seemed to be on the verge of tearing. "Teddy," he said with a smile. "As much as I do wish I had called the police, somewhere deep inside—I think I'm happy I met you."

"The police are, once again, relatively useless," TED replied with a huff. "And you are speaking to me in an effort to incite emotion. I cannot feel human sentiment, Felix Blake."

"Oh, I know." The human shook his head, wiping at his eyes. "Well then. When do you go off to find this 'wormhole' thing or whatever? I'm curious of how much time I've left to live."

Was it the norm for humans to anticipate the end of their existence? It likely was. Humans did all kinds of odd things. "I have wasted two hours, three minutes, and seventeen seconds conversing with you," TED replied, and he stood up. Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, he reapplied the article of clothing and buttoned up his shirt. The sandwich laid untouched on the tabletop, and the robot glanced at it one more time. "As customary of human interaction, I will now take my leave with a generally insincere wish to see you again."

He turned around and nodded at the man, fixing his tie. "Goodbye Felix Blake, I hope to see you again," he said insincerely.

Felix, hiding a smile behind splayed fingers, waved. "It was great getting to know you, Teddy," he replied, a sort of edge to his voice that sounded sarcastic if not outright cynical. "I also hope to see you again."

"Indeed." TED pivoted on his heel, returning to the window. "I am now preparing to exit your premises."

"…why don't you just take the door?" Felix asked. When TED paused, the man laughed again. "For a robot, you're a bit queer in your methods for doing things."

"Hmph." The robot placed his hands on the outside of the sill, readjusting his pose appropriately. "I prefer this method." And he dragged himself through the window once more, this time in an effort to actually complete his mission.

Felix walked up to the window and looked at the robot, who stood up dusting himself off. "Teddy," he called, scratching the back of his head. "Is there any chance that this other 'Felix Blake' isn't dead? As in, maybe I do belong?"

TED turned to the human. "Felix Blake, through a chance of three percent, could still be alive," he replied. "But there is a negative 97 percent chance that you will continue to exist in this time period once the wormhole is repaired." Hopefully this information would reassure the human.

"Oh," Felix deflated, obviously unhappy. "Well. All right then." He waved again, sighing. "Have a nice night, Ted."

"You as well," TED responded. "Felix Blake."

* * *

><p>In the year 1985, TED came into contact with Felix Blake. Again.<p>

"Do you understand the catastrophe you have caused," he demanded, looking down at the human on the muddy ground. "Doctor Blake?"

Blake looked up at him with a weak smile that quickly turned into a grimace as soon as he glanced at TED's enraged monitor. "Do forgive me, Mr. Moving-Picture-Machine-Man, sir!" he cried, holding out his hands in a silly attempt to protect himself.

The doctor continued on to stammer about completely irrelevant things, and TED marveled at the discrepancy between this year and the year 1994. Felix Blake was an interesting person, he finally decided.

This did not change the fact that the man was soon to be eradicated, but still.

"—have a nap," Blake was still talking. Why? "And eat a sandwich, and—"

A sandwich? "What kind?" TED demanded, a hand shooting out to grab the doctor's shoulder. He jostled the man roughly, glaring into his familiar blue eyes. "What kind of sandwich did you want to eat?"

"Err, uh," Blake stuttered, his face pale in terror. "Ham?"

TED released him then, rolling up his blazer sleeve in order to enter the command into digital keyboard on his wrist. "Please wait," he said as the execution traveled through his internal processors. Soon, the particles materialized at his fingertips, and he watched as a plate formed with a fully edible sandwich atop it.

With a short beep, he held it out to Blake.

The human lit up. "Oh, capital," he said, grabbing the sandwich from atop the plate. "I love capital."

TED had a prediction that he would.

Blake paused, furrowing his brow. "Are there carrots on this sandwich?" he asked incredulously. "Who the dickens puts carrots on a sandwich?"

TED looked at the doctor once more, a contemplative expression coloring his screen.

"An interesting question," he replied. "Of which I am not sure of the answer."

He almost had a sentimental moment. How odd.

**END**

* * *

><p>Okay okay I'm done<p>

Oh god I'm done and now I am going to be heavily judged ha ha ha oh well

Also Curious Travels, while a great fuckin' webcomic, is not slash. It'd be really cool if you read it, because it is sick and great and I obviously hold a certain amount of affection for it if I am writing slash fiction (in a way) for it. I think I will link it on my profile :o for easy readin's

As well, Curitrav's theory of time-travel and whatever is nothing like this LOL I can assure you that I had a half-baked idea of what I was doing. No seriously Curious Travels actually knows what the fuck it is doing and I definitely don't. Hopefully the story was still a generally okay read despite the kinda fast pace

TED is my homosexual lover  
>Thank you<p>

(I will probably never write a fic for a webcomic again lol what an ordeal)

oops forgot to get a beta LOL who the fuck cares anyway ha ha ha


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